


The Mask

by FindingFeathersSeanchaidh



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Halloween, Trick or Treat 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingFeathersSeanchaidh/pseuds/FindingFeathersSeanchaidh
Summary: A mini hallowe'en adventure for our three favourite LiT's. Will it be a trick or a treat?





	1. Chapter 1

The afternoon heat of Mulu National Park sweltered. Cassandra stood quietly, allowing Ezekiel to check her ropes and harness with the good grace of one who knows abseiling is not in her skill set. Stone, in his turn, stood with the bad grace of one who knows it is, even if only on oil rigs, not tall buildings or buried temples.

"Mate, there is a reason this thing came up in my book!" Jones complained, meeting the resistance of Stone's folded arms.

"I got this," Stone growled. "I have done this before."

"In the dark?" Jones retorted, indicating the hole behind them.

"Better safe than sorry, Jacob," Cassandra sing-songed.

The eldest of the trio sighed and raised his arms, letting the youngest check the harness in full.

"Finally," Jones sighed, finishing his check. "Right, we know the temple is down there somewhere, and it's most likely in the parts of the caves the public don't get to explore, so keep your eyes out for any side tunnels or crevasses off the beaten track."

"I got it!" Stone repeated wearily. "Can we just go, already!"

"Now I know it might get scary down there in the dark, with the walls closing in on you..."

"I swear to God, Jones..." Stone growled.

"But that's why we have flashlights," finished the thief, with a mischievous grin.

Descending the caves, away from the prying eyes of the travelling public, was not an easy task, and led to more than one scraped knee, bruised shin and heartfelt curse word. Descend they did, nevertheless, and soon caught up with the winding path that led the tour guides and their itinerant flocks through the national landmark. There were no tours on the path now. Tours had finished for the day not long before and the caves betrayed no sound but the steady drip of water.

"Let's go this way," decided Jones, shining his flashlight down a handy side-tunnel.

"Who made you the boss?" Stone muttered, unhooking his rope.

"My book: me boss," pointed out the thief. "I didn't force you two to come along."

"You didn't even _ask_ me!" Stone pointed out in return.

"And yet, here you are," sighed Jones with an obviously fake smile. "Whatever did I do to deserve the pleasure?"

"I asked you," snapped Cassandra, tiring of the bickering. "And you know full well why. Nobody else is likely to know what this thing looks like."

"Then why'd it give the case to Jones?" Stone protested.

"Really?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "You're jealous because he got a case and you didn't?"

"I'm not jealous!" Stone blurted out, with more conviction than he felt.

"Course you're not, mate," said Jones, shaking his head. "Come on: through here."

The thief led the way through a crack in the rock face, which was a tight squeeze for Stone, into a crystal-lined cavern that stretched from ground level to ceiling.

"Woah!" Cassandra breathed, her eyes following the glitter of her flashlight around and up to see the full extent of the system's most vulnerable national treasure: the unprotectable that will be unequivocally covered by water in a hundred years time.

In the centre of the crystal chamber stood a table, carved from the living rock and covered in similar crystals. They sparkled, illuminating the room with dancing lights and shadows. As the eyes of the trio got used to the odd light, they became aware that something was sitting in the centre of the desk. On closer inspection, they found it was a carved wooden mask.

Cassandra was the first brave enough to step forward and inspect the mask. "Hey! There's something on the back of here."

"What kind of something? Like writing?" Jones asked, wrinkling his nose.

"What language?" Stone enquired, walking over. "Let me see."

"No, it's, it's more like some kind of raised series of lines. Not Morse code, another one," she replied, lifting and tilting the mask to better catch the light. "jiwa ke jiwa kata-kata ini menetapkan saya bebas."

"That's Malay," began Stone. "It means..."

He stopped as a bright light unfolded from the back of the mask, streaming up to cover Cassandra's face light a searchlight. The light grew, brightening until neither mask nor Cassandra could be seen. Suddenly, the light was gone, and all that remained was the mask and Cassandra, both lying still on the floor.

"Cassie?" Stone sprinted across the remainder of the floor and knelt beside her, Jones dropping to his knees opposite him. "Cassie, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

The red-haired figure stirred and opened her eyes, allowing the two men to help her to sit up. "I'm fine, boys," purred the redhead. "I'm just not too sure who Cassie is."

Stone looked at the woman carefully. She met his eyes without guile. He frowned. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" She asked.

"Who you are," Stone replied, watching her through narrowed eyes.

"Why don't you tell me," she smiled. "I'm a total blank."

Stone helped her to her feet. "We'd best get you back to Jenkins," he said. "He'll know what to do."

"You can tell me all about him on the way," she replied, taking his arm.

Behind them, Jones picked up the mask. Something about this amnesia worried him. He looked at the mask. It's features, once peaceful, now seemed pained in some way. He watched Stone leading Cassandra through the back door. Something wasn't right. He had a gut feeling that nagged him. Something about Cassandra. About the mask. He slipped it into his satchel and hurried to catch up with the others.


	2. Chapter 2

Cassie stumbled through the wormhole, Jacob’s arm going out to steady her automatically. He watched her head turn and take in the familiar sights and sounds of the office as if they were utterly new to her. No, not utterly new, he thought. More like she hadn’t seen them in a long time and was checking to see what had changed. He felt his eyebrows descend; whatever had happened back there with that mask, something was very definitely wrong with Cassandra Cillian.

Ezekiel Jones, World Class Thief, strolled through the wormhole and out of the office. He was heading for Jenkins’ lab: not because he had ben ordered by the old man to report to him as soon as they returned, oh no; because there was something of great importance that he needed the archivist’s help on. Had there been no necessity, he would have made his report in his own sweet time. It wasn’t so much what she had said that had worried him - memory issues were something he knew they could fix – but the way she had said it. He had spent the best part of his life observing people: trying to decipher whether or not they were a suitable mark, or what challenges they may pose for his heist plans. Since joining the Library he had begun using his observational skills on those from whom he would not dare steal (because the Colonel had made it explicitly and abundantly clear to him what she would do to him if he tried). Observing Cassandra was always his favourite hobby. Stone was too easy to read, as was Colonel Baird. Jenkins and Flynn were a bit more of a challenge. Cassandra, however, was just fun. Every case she encountered seemed to be a new and fascinating discovery in the world of magic, filled with joyous realms of possibility. She even treated people like they were magical artefacts. She treated him like one! That was a new and rare occurrence for Ezekiel Jones. Nobody had ever bothered to consider him before.

This new Cassandra, though: she seemed different. Sure, she was minus a couple of decades worth of memories, but surely that couldn’t change the basic personality of a person, could it? He knocked on the door of the lab, brows furrowed deep in thought. The simple act of knocking was so unlike him that the first words out of the Caretaker’s mouth told Ezekiel just how worried he must look.

“What happened?”

The thief shook his head and shrugged, walking past the old man into the room. “Cassandra got whammied, and I think it’s more than just memory loss.”

Jenkins sighed and shut the door. “Tell me everything.”

XXXX

Jacob watched in silence as Cassandra traversed the office, delicate fingers trailing gracefully over piles of books, the desks and table, the bookshelves, the bannister, the card catalogue. He noted, with interest, that they did not touch Jenkin’s desk. Nor did those once so fragile fingers come into contact with the mirror or clippings book. She circled back round to the shelves and a rustle filled the air. Not the pleasant rustle of the books welcoming home their friend and Librarian, but an uneasy rustle, like a dog who, hears footsteps at the door and knows they are not of his master’s making.

XXXX

Jenkins turned the mask over in his hands. “And you’re certain there was writing on this? On the back, you say?”

“Course I’m sure!” Ezekiel replied, perhaps a little more forcibly than he ought. “Look how could Cassandra read out something that wasn’t there? Stone said it was Malay or something: Cassandra doesn’t speak Malay!”

“Malay?” Jenkins frowned. “In Borneo?”

“Yeah, it was something like… Ugh, what was it,” Ezekiel looked aside, snapping his fingers in irritation with his own brain. Before Jenkins could stop him, he looked up and continued, “Jiwa ke jiwa kata-kata ini menetapkan saya bebas.”

Once again, a bright light filled the room, emanating from the mask out towards Ezekiel. When the light faded, Jenkins walked softly over to the prone figure on the floor and stretched out a hand, shaking a shoulder gently. There was a groan and two dark eyes blinked open, focusing first on the ceiling, then on the old man watching with a resigned expression on his face.

“Jenkins?”

“Last I checked,” sighed the knight. “And let me guess: you’re Cassandra.”


End file.
